


Order Up

by lollzie



Series: Summer of Gotham [6]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Coffee Shops, M/M, Summer of Gotham, coffee shop AU, joys of customer service
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollzie/pseuds/lollzie
Summary: Oswald gets a summer job at his local coffee shop. He hates the early mornings, the grumpy customers and the frankly disturbing amount of people who have sex in the toilets. But there's one saving grace, his dorky co-worker with a penchant for riddles.





	Order Up

**Author's Note:**

> For the Summer of Gotham challenge. Week 6 - Coffee Shop AU

“Get a job Oswald. It’ll do you good Oswald. Colleges will love that you wasted your summer serving ungrateful morons Oswald,” the dark-haired teenager grumbled under his breath as he hobbled down the street to Fish’s. For once, the streets of Gotham were quiet, but seeing as it wasn’t yet even 6am, a time Oswald hadn’t known existed before today, he couldn’t say he was surprised.

Despite the early hour, the smell of freshly ground coffee wrapped itself around Oswald the closer he got to his new place of employment, and he silently thanked any deity that might be listening that at least he hadn’t had to open up the coffeeshop and set up like the rest of the team had. Small mercies of it being your first day he supposed. The jingling of the bell alerted the lone person behind the counter to the arrival of a newcomer.

“We’re not open yet! Come back in twenty minutes,” even from across the room Oswald could see that his new co-worker was more than a little stressed. His glasses were completely steamed up and his hair sticking up at multiple ends.

“I’m… it’s my first day,” Oswald took a cautious step forward, part of him wishing he had taken the opening this strange boy in front of him had given to escape, but the disappointed look on his mother’s face if he left the job before even starting stopped him from leaving.

“You’re late,” the stranger simply replied, picking up an apron from behind the counter and throwing it at Oswald, who caught it between the tips of fingers.

“Fish told me to come now. She said that otherwise I’d get in the way of everyone setting up because I don’t know where anything is… wait, where is everyone?” Oswald asked, finally registering that he and the other teen were the only ones stood in the shop. “I was under the impression that there’d be more than two of us here?”

“You’d think,” the boy said with a roll of his eyes, and Oswald really needed to get his name, because although referring to him as ‘cute barista boy’ in his head was all well and fine, he couldn’t very well say that to his face. “Essen, the store manager, walked out in the middle of her shift yesterday, and so did about three quarters of the staff. Most of whom were meant to be opening up today.”

“But they… they can’t just quit like that can they?” Oswald asked, palms starting to sweat as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. Cute Barista Boy only shrugged in response, attention now focused on the coffee machine next to him which has started to splutter in a concerning manner. Oswald feels he should also be concerned about the potentially broken coffee machine but he’s more worried about the fact that on his first day he’s been almost literally thrown into the thick of it.

“Why? What happened yesterday?”

“Have you ever worked in customer service?” Cute Barista Boy asked, hitting the top of the machine with, in Oswald’s opinion, unnecessary force; though the machine does quieten.

“This is my first place of employment,” Oswald admits, feeling himself bristle at the look shot his way.

“Well you’ll quickly learn that there’s something always happening here. And when you break, you break.” Oswald snorts, surely that’s a touch on the dramatic side. This is a coffee shop for Christ’s sake! Sure, people might get a bit tetchy if they have to wait too long for their caffeine fix (he is particularly guilty of this), but what could really happen?

“Set up the pastries would you? They’re always the first thing to go, so if we at least get them out we might have half a shot of surviving this morning.” With an ill-contained sigh, Oswald started to move over to the back pantry where the other teen directed him, feeling his cool gaze follow him across the shop.

“What belongs to you but is used by others?” he asks when Oswald turns to meet his stare.

“What?” Oswald asks, blinking in bewilderment. Had the lack of sleep finally made him crack?

“It’s a riddle, do you like riddles?” Cute barista boy asks, a smile toying at the corner of his lips.

“No,” cuteness be damned, Oswald did not have the patience for this shit.

“The answer is name. I’m asking for your name.”

“Oh... Oswald, Oswald Cobblepot."

“Nice to meet you Oswald, I’m Ed.”

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Oswald’s not quite sure how they manage it, but some-how he and Ed survived the morning rush. Shortly after eight a couple of others who worked at the store had arrived to help out, Fish having called them in until she found some more employees. He wasn’t sure who unnerved him more, Victor with his intense staring and inability to keep out of one’s personal space or Bullock, who since arriving had polished off three espressos in quick succession, which Oswald highly suspected he had spiked after catching sight of what seemed to be a hip-flask.

And strictly speaking, Oswald wasn’t sure how much of a help either guy had been, seemingly perfectly content eating all the pastries or flirting with the customers respectively. It’s not until 10am when the rush starts to die down, all the commuters having long since arrived at work but still being too early for students to have emerged.

“Not it,” Bullock called without warning from where he was wiping down a table from the other side of the room.

“Not it.”

“Not it!” Both Ed and Victor cried in quick succession, turning to look at a very baffled Oswald.

“Looks like you’re on toilet clean-up,” Ed explained, placing a hand on Oswald’s shoulder and steering him to a cupboard. He followed without argument, mind short-circuiting at the warm touch seeping through his thin polo shirt. Ed moved away to open the cupboard and it took all of Oswald’s self-restraint not to cry out at the loss of contact, but instead accept the mop and bucket passed his way.

“Good luck.” Oswald chose not to ask what Ed means by that. He’s never been good with gross things, practically heaving at the thought of having to unblock a toilet and the mess that could come from it. But it’s a coffee shop not a club, surely the worse thing he’d have to deal with is guys bad aim and taking the bin out when there’s used tampon. Fish’s isn’t a large coffee shop, so there’s only one toilet in the building, large enough for disabled customers and hidden in the back corner, well away from the counter and out of sight for most people. At least it means the job won’t take long Oswald tells himself, too busy talking himself up to hear the… questionable noises coming from said toilet.

“Arghhh!” he cries out, dropping both mop and bucket with a loud clang as he slaps both hands over his face to block out the horrific sight in front of him. Because whilst certainly not a blocked toilet, Oswald couldn’t say it was anymore preferable.

“Dude!” an affronted voice cried out, whilst a girl shrieked, trying to grab her top from where it had fallen onto the floor whilst keeping herself as covered as possible. Oswald was tempted to tell her not to even bother, he had seen everything and more the second he’d opened the door. “Knock next time!”

“It’s ten in the morning!” Oswald cried out, dropping his hands to glare at the couple and automatically wishing he hadn’t when he came face to face with the guy’s ass, who had bent over to grab his pants which had been long since discarded. “And you’re in a coffee shop for God’s sake! And me knock? You didn’t even lock the god-damned door!”

Oswald must have been voicing his horror louder than he realised because he heard footsteps behind him, turning to come face to face with an amused looking Victor.

“Ah young love,” he sighed, cocking a head and placing a hand to his chest. Oswald isn’t sure if he’s being genuine or not, but swings the door shut on the mortified couple before anymore can be said. “You’ve lucked out there.”

“How is that lucking out in anyway?” Oswald asked, eyes wide in horror as he realises at least one of his new co-workers may actually be clinically insane.

“Jim got pissed on last week.” Ok, so maybe he had lucked out. Or at least, he was doing better than Jim, whoever he was.

}}}}}}}}}}

Jim, Oswald finds out on his next shift a day later, is the living embodiment of a Greek God. Between him and Ed, Oswald doesn’t know where to look, heart fluttering pathetically in his chest when the older boy flashed a cheery smile in his direction after he successfully created latte art that didn’t look like a splodge for the first time. His short-lived crush is… well crushed, two hours into their shift when a tall brunette walks in, pecking Jim on the cheek before collecting her coffee and setting herself up in the corner with a laptop.

“Lee Tompkins,” a voice says softly into his ear, causing Oswald to jump. He turns, coming face to face with Ed who appears to have taken a lesson from Victor in terms of respecting one’s personal space. “Her and Jim have been dating since last November ever since he successfully wooed her with faces in her cappuccino froth. The football captain dating the nerdy-would-be medic, that fuelled the high school gossip mill for quite some time I can tell you.”

“You all go to the same school?” Oswald asked, choosing not to focus on the other details. If Ed had picked up on his not so subtle admiration for Jim, then he surely must have noticed that he felt the same for him?

“Most of us. There’s a few Gotham high drop-outs littering the rota, but you’re one of the only ones who doesn’t come from that neck of the woods. You’re the anomaly,” Oswald tried not to react as goosebumps raised on his arms, a shiver running down his back at the intense look Ed was giving him.

“Yo dude,” a shaggy haired guy said from the counter, causing Ed and Oswald to jump at the disturbance. He held a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in his hand and was eyeing the tips jar. “I need change for Jervis, can I?”

“Go ahead,” Ed motioned with a roll of his eyes, though he watched intensely as the older guy pocketed the change to make sure he didn’t take too much.

“Who’s Jervis?” Oswald asked when the stranger had left, bagging a pastry for a harried looking young mum. His question was quickly answered when he saw the stranger sit on one of the outside tables, next to an equally shaggy looking boy, a dramatic top hat hiding some of his hair. The pair spoke for a minute, before shaking hands and quickly splitting. Oswald couldn’t be too sure, but it had looked like…

“Did… did that guy really just come in to split his drugs money?” he asked, barely remembering to keep his voice down low enough so the customers wouldn’t hear.

“Yup,” Ed replied nonchalantly, tearing off a receipt to pass over to the next customer. “Tetch does most of his business here, perfect clientele he says.”

“And he gets most his business from Jerome,” Jim snorted, promptly going gooey eyed when Lee waved over to him before returning to her books. Oswald tried to disguise his own noise of disgust with a cough, but if the amused look Ed shot him told him anything, it was that he hadn’t overly successful.

}}}}}}}}}}

Before today Oswald didn’t think he had seen so many of his fellow co-workers all at Fish’s at the same time. They’re a small team, far too small for what they should be, Essen leaving must have really done a number on them he realises. Apart from them, the place is empty, having shut for business only twenty minutes before.

Oswald resents having to come in on his day off, especially because there seems to be no reason for it, but he can’t say it’s a bad thing seeing Ed once more. So far most of their shifts have lined up, but the dark-haired teen is finding that the more time he is spending with Ed, the more he desires his presence.

“Do you know why we’re here?” he asks, shuffling slightly closer as Jerome takes a step forward. He’s only worked with the redhead once, but that shift had been more than long enough. Ever since, he’s been able to feel Jerome’s eyes on him, watching his every move. It’s more than a little unsettling.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Ed shrugged, though he’s frowning. Although they’ve not known each other for long, Oswald already knows him well enough to know that Ed doesn’t like being kept in the dark. He’s about to speak up again, but the jingling of the bell announcing new arrivals silences everyone.

Oswald had only met Fish Mooney once before when he was being interviewed. She’s just as glamorous and terrifying now as she was then, the hulking giant figure behind her not even half as intimidating. She commands such attention that even Jerome stands still, eyeing her with respect.

“Good evening,” she states, casting an eye over them all like a queen does her subjects. “I appreciate you all coming over in your free time, I do appreciate it. I know ever since Essen’s… departure things have been tough on you all, but I just want you to know I’ve got a few newcomers starting in the next week which should take the strain off of everyone. But first, I feel like I should introduce you to your new store manager, Nathanial Barnes.”

The stranger who had been stood just behind Fish takes a step forward, and Oswald realises just how large the other man is. He looks over each and every one of them, gaze so piercing it’s like he’s looking into their very soul. Oswald can feel himself shuffling and looking down at his feet like a naughty little school boy.

“Fish’s has always been the best of the best,” he starts, wiping a finger along a table and inspecting it closely. “People came here for quality. They came here for luxury, for what the other coffee shops could only dream of achieving. But that’s been slowly decreasing. Standards have been slipping and I am here to sort that out. I will not put up with negligence. I will not put up with sloppiness. Is that understood?”

The team mumble back affirmatives, Selina and Bridget snickering in the back corner. “I said is that understood?” Barnes bellowed, the change in volume causing everyone, even Victor, to jump.

“Yes sir,” everyone cries back, too startled to do anything else. Fish looks on, impressed with her new manager.

“I trust you’ll all do Barnes says,” she practically purrs. “After all, he is the best.”

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

“Has Fish always employed people with such… exotic backgrounds?” Oswald asks Selina one afternoon as they stand to one side, staring in nothing other than awe and some wide-eye shock at their two new co-workes.

“You mean, has she ever employed former strippers before? No, this would be a first.”

“Excuse you,” the blonde said, Barbara, if Oswald remembered correctly. He could look at her name badge to check, but both girls were wearing such low-cut tops he was a bit afraid he’d see something he really didn’t want to. “There’s no former about either of us. And you can catch us both down at the Sirens every Friday and Saturday, just for you we might put on a private show.”

“You’re scaring them,” Barbara’s dark-haired companion said with a roll of her eyes, unimpressed with the antics before her.

“Relax Tabs, they love it,” Barbara laughed, slapping Tabitha’s butt as she walked past, eyeing up both Selina and Oswald in an intense fashion.

“You ever get bored of the cappuccino life kid just let me know, you’d look great on a pole.”

“Now that I’d love to see,” Victor said with a predatory smile as he emerged from the store cupboard.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Oswald asked, choosing to focus on one weird co-worker over the other. “You closed up last night, did you not leave?”

“Nope,” Victor replied, popping his lips around the p. “Oooh is that pie?”

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

Oswald knew it had been going too well, he knew his string of good luck was going to end eventually, he just hadn’t expected to end with such a bang. Or to smell so bloody awful. He didn’t even know how it was possible, he’d heard horror stories of it, but he hadn’t thought they could be true. But he, unfortunately, wasn’t dreaming this.

No, this was definitely a living nightmare, and he was definitely going to need more than a mop. Because some absolute bastard had taken the mother of all shits, and then, because they were obviously clinically insane, a sadist (and no doubt a friend of Jerome’s), wiped it all over the walls, door and mirror.

“This so trumps getting pissed on,” he muttered turning around and back to the store cupboard. Victor kept loads of weird shit in there, there had to be a haz-mat suit somewhere.

}}}}}}}}}}}}}

“Yo asshat, this lady needs serving,” Oswald turned to said lady in question with an apologetic smile, popping a lid onto a takeaway cup and passing it to a previous customer.

“And why can’t you serve them Selina?” he asked the young girl, who was currently lounging across the back counter and watching the line build up.

“I’m checking on supplies,” she shrugged, not moving from where she was leant. “And anyway, it’s Jerome’s job.”

“And where is Jerome?” Oswald asked through gritted teeth, feeling his right eye starting to twitch with all the stress.

“Couldn’t tell ya. He was here a few minutes ago, but he does this.”

“This?”

“Disappears.”

“Great,” Oswald muttered, moving over to the till to take the next customer’s order but not before throwing an empty milk carton at Selina who begrudgingly moved over to the coffee machine. They work quickly, getting through the rush with surprising ease, even if they are missing one third of their team. They finally reach a lull and Oswald moves away from the till with a relieved sigh, leaning down to rub his aching leg.

“One regular hazelnut latte and a large black americano to sit in,” a familiar voice says, and he bolts upright so quickly he’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash.

“Ed… hi, what are you doing here?” he asks, cursing himself for stammering over his words like a fool.

“Kristen and I have a history project we need to work on,” Ed says, motioning to a pretty redhead who’s examining the cakes from behind the glass counter but looks up at the mention of her name. “And here seems like a good a place as any.”

“Oh,” Oswald nods, trying to keep the dejection out of his voice. But it’s hard, even more after seeing the look in Ed’s eye when he said Kristen’s name. The pair take their coffee and make their way over to a table at the back, though Oswald can still see them perfectly from the till, not that he would ever spend his time staring. No, he was better than that. He wasn’t a loser. He was smooth, as cool as a cucumber.

“Could you be anymore obvious?” Selina rolled her eyes, moving forward to block Oswald’s view and standing firm when he tried to move her out of the way.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Oswald sniffs, because acting oblivious is probably the best way to go.

“Uhuh, sure. Because you haven’t been acting gooey eyed since the moment you first saw him.”

“I resent that.”

“Why, because it’s true?” Selina says with a wicked grin, darting out of the way when Oswald tries to take a swipe at her. A melodic laugh carries over the sound of the other customer and automatically he turns to where Ed and Kristen’s table, the pair sat so close they’re practically on top of one another, pouring other a notebook with one another.

“Oooh someone’s looking stressed,” a voice breathes into his ear and Oswald lets a shriek, heart thundering in his chest and as he jumps to come face to face with Jerome who had somehow reappeared without him noticing.

“Why so down pengy? I could practically hear your poor little heart breaking from across the shop.”

“That is none of your concern Valeska,” Oswald hissed, hoping that Ed hadn’t witnessed the very undignified scene, though he didn’t dare look back just in case. “And don’t call me that.”

“Whatever you say pengy,” the look on Jerome’s face was daring and it took all of Oswald’s restraint not to punch the little git stood in front of him. Wisely, Selina took a step back, taking the pot of scalding milk with her so it was well out of arm’s reach.

“Where have you even been anyway?”

“Around,” Jerome shrugged, spinning on his heels and pivoting fully round. “Here, there, everywhere, nowhere. You know how it is.” Oswald could feel a breakdown looming the more Jerome spoke. He knew he should just disengage but the ginger was an expert at pushing his buttons, and he had never been good with self-control himself.

A tap on his shoulder distracted him, and he whirled around ready to bite the head off of whichever customer was demanding a no-whip, fat-free, sugar-free frappucino now but he froze when he saw it was Ed, biting his lip and looking concerned.

“I’m going now, well me and Kristen are,” he started, and Oswald tried to keep his cool with the stammering that he usually found so endearing. Jerome really was a bastard if he made Oswald so mad he could snap at Ed of all people. “I just wanted to say bye though.” The annoyance that had been rapidly building started to ebb away at Ed’s words, and Oswald cursed himself for being such a sop. He knew it meant nothing, not with the way that Ed had spent the past hour making moon-eyes at Kristen but he couldn’t stop the fluttering in his chest all the same.

Ed was silent for a second more, making to move away, but then stopping and repeating the action again. Kristen was stood at the café door for Ed, shooting him a look when he turned away from the counter again, no doubt motioning for him to hurry up. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Oswald again, who could feel the bemused stares of both Selina and Jerome on him, he was probably mirroring a similar expression.

“The cousin of chance, good fortune’s best friend, I am what everyone seeks, when unsure of their fate.” Oswald supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at the riddle, in his three weeks since meeting Ed the other teenager had proved to be a big fan of word play, but he still felt himself blinking stupidly at the words, too confused more than anything to even attempt working out what he meant.

“The answer is luck,” Ed said eventually, seemingly taking pity on Oswald. “You’ll need it is all, working with Jerome for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you,” Oswald said, unable to keep in the startled laugh. With a nod and a proud smile at eliciting such a response, Ed turned, this time fully and made his way to the door. Not even seeing the elated smile on Kristen’s face could dampen Oswald’s spirits.

}}}}}}}}}}}

“Oh, this is painful.”

“Excruciating.”

“Embarrassing.”

“It’s like a car crash.”

“Biscuit?”

“Please,” Oswald took the offered snack from Ed, neither looking away from the scene in front of them. Bruce Wayne was a regular at Fish’s, for a boy so young he really had no right drinking so much caffeine, but it wasn’t the macchiatos that he was there for, but rather the curly-haired barista who always happened to be on shift during any of his visits. Selina always took Bruce’s very obvious infatuation with surprising grace, seeming just as bemused by him as the rest of Fish’s staff.

Oswald supposed that she must hold some affection for him, having practically been spitting feathers when he arrived one afternoon with a very pretty blonde on his arm. Said blonde hadn’t been seen since, but Selina had looked very satisfied with herself when asked what exactly the pair had spoken about when they ran into each other in the toilets.

Despite the frequency of his visits, and the fact that Oswald was fairly certain the pair had hung out together out of the coffee shop, Bruce never seemed to be able to utter more than two coherent words in a row whilst trying to make his order. He didn’t feel like he could blame the boy though, anyone wouldn’t be able to think straight when not only dealing with Selina’s piercing stare less than two feet away, but also Jerome, who was leaning over the counter and not even blinking as he tried to get Bruce to make eye-contact with him.

Oswald couldn’t work out what the ginger’s game-plan was, he liked to unnerve everyone but normally restrained himself around customers, especially after Barnes had pulled him into his office one morning and gave him the biggest bollocking. But around Bruce, it was like he couldn’t contain himself, becoming even more intense than usual.

Ed was convinced Jerome was just as infatuated with Bruce as he was with Selina but Oswald wasn’t certain that the former was even capable of feelings like that. He wasn’t human enough for one thing. But as Jerome passed Bruce his drink, making a sly comment that Oswald didn’t catch, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it wasn’t as one-sided as Ed believed, not with the way Bruce’s cheeks furiously flushed red and eyes widened.

“Ah young love,” Ed said with a wistful sigh, as if he and Oswald weren’t only two years older than the others. “Doesn’t it just make your heart sing?”

“If that’s your interpretation of love you really need you head examining,” Oswald snorted.

“Maybe someone needs to show me,” Ed says with a surprising boldness and looking at Oswald. He’s glad he’s finished his biscuit because he’s struggling to breath enough as it is. Did Ed just? Is he trying to hint that?

“VALESKA!” Before Oswald can ask the familiar yell of their manager hits the floor, silencing everyone and causing them to freeze.

“You think Barnesy’s just found the fish I left in his desk last night or that I changed the milk order so that we’re due to get 10 litres of alpaca milk instead of oat?”

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

“Scuse me… scuse me… excuse me… damnit woman I know you want your coffee but if you don’t actually move you’re not getting anything,” Oswald elbowed through the disgruntled crowd, stopping short at the entrance of Fish’s, the doors still firmly shut and no signs of life inside despite it nearing almost 9am.

“Jerome was meant to open up,” a voice says to his left and Oswald turns to find Ed leaning against the wall, a takeaway coffee cup from Falcone’s Grind House in his hand. “As you can probably deduce, he hasn’t. He probably thinks that because Barnes is out of state for the week he’d get away with it.”

“I don’t think Jerome would care even if Barnes was here,” Oswald replied, pushing on the door uselessly. “Who else has a key?”

“Jim, he got here about half an hour ago, saw what happened and ran back home to grab it.”

“You were meant to help open up too,” Oswald said with dawning realisation. “Why didn’t you just text Jim before he’d have even left his place?”

“And miss the chance of being able to ruin his day before the 9am? No chance,” Ed shrugged, taking a final sip of his drink and throwing it in a nearby bin. “Though I am not a fan of paying for my own coffee.”

“You do know we don’t get free drinks right?” Oswald asked, knowing full well that Ed would know this, and simply didn’t care.

“I really should have taken Jonathon’s bet,” An amused looking Jervis said, elbowing himself to the front of the crowd and staring at the shut door with a bemused look.

“What do you know?” Ed asked him, moving forward so he was no longer leaning on the wall but facing Tetch eye to eye.

“We were all at a party last night and Jerome took one too many pills, you know what he’s like,” Jervis explained, loving how all eyes were on him and hanging onto every word if the way he puffed his chest out was any indication. “He started talking about going to see Bruce Wayne in his not-so-little-mansion, except he got the wrong not-so-little-mansion. Fast forward one dip in the pool and an impromptu sword fight with the owner later, Jerome was promptly arrested by Gotham’s finest in blues. Not that it stopped Jonathon being convinced he’d somehow still make it in for opening.”

“If that was anyone else,” Oswald blinked. “I wouldn’t believe a word of it. I’m just surprised Jerome’s never done anything like that before."

“You weren’t around last Christmas,” Ed replied, seeming to shudder at the memory. Before Oswald could enquire further Jim had appeared, red in the face and panting, but brandishing the keys triumphantly. With little fanfare the three piled into the coffee shop, asking for the customers to wait a further ten minutes to allow them to set up.

As he was disinfecting the sides Oswald heard movement to his left and turned, coming face to face with a very bemused looking Victor as he walked out of the storage cupboard, his back popping as he stretched.

“Where the hell did you come from?”

“What do you mean?” Victor asked, not seeming to understand why three pairs of eyes were intensely on him. “I never left.” Jim, who was still an alarming shade of red from his earlier run, looked ready to cry.

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to stop eating our flowers,” Jim said with a weary sigh not even two hours later. The chubby man in front of him didn’t appear to hear him, not even pausing as he reached forward for the decorative flowers once more, crushing what had been left of the first display in his left fist.

The day hadn’t been going much better since it’s late opening, but Oswald had to admit he was feeling significantly cheered up by watching Jim try to placate the customer from hell who had been causing mayhem for the past twenty minutes; first by stealing things from other customers’ tables, and now, by attempting to eat the plant-life.

“Arghhh,” the man growled when Jim went to bat his hand away, baring his teeth which were grainy and covered in soil.

“Sir I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Jim tried again, his voice growing sterner by the second. “If you don’t I will call the police so they can forcibly remove you, you don’t want tha-“ His voice trailed off, eyes widening in abject horror. Not seeing what had happened, Oswald knelt on a nearby stool to get a better view, ignoring the disgruntled customer in front of him who had been halfway through her order.

Catching sight of the stained trousers and the trickle of fluid pooling at the guy’s feet, he automatically wished he hadn’t.

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

After what felt like years, the end of the shift finally rolled around. After the last few customers had left, Oswald grabbed the mop and bucket and made his way to the toilet. “If I walk in on another couple doing it I quit,” he yelled over his shoulder, flipping the bird over his shoulder when the only response he got back was snickers.

“It must be your superpower,” Ed said, and Oswald could practically hear the grin on his face. Fucker. “How many did you interrupt last week? Three? Five?”

“Six. And that wasn’t even my record,” Oswald replied, trying the handle to no avail. He knocked sharply but there was no reply. “There are plenty of other places to have a shag so get dressed. I have a key and I’m opening up, I’ve got a bus to catch and I’m not waiting for you to fucking finish up.”

Surprisingly, there was no noise as Oswald unlocked the door, no swearing or shouting. “Definitely not a shagging couple,” he remarked under his breath, the old man in front of him not even stirring from where he was sat, corduroy trousers at his ankles.

“Sir. Sir. Sir!” Still the older man didn’t move, seemingly in a deep slumber. With a huff of laughter Oswald walked into the cubicle, shaking the man’s shoulder who limply moved with the motion. “Oh no,” Oswald breathed, stopping what he was doing instantly. With a trembling hand he placed two fingers at the man’s throat, pressing down desperately to find a pulse, to find anything. “This is definitely not a shagging couple.”

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

The only mild benefit to being the one who found a dead old man on the toilet is that Oswald was off toilet duty for a solid week. It’s the only benefit, and it’s flimsy at best, but after watching Harvey getting puked on by a drunken 17-year-old (and Oswald knows it’s summer vacation but it was also only 2pm), he does start to feel slightly better about the situation.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ed asks, sliding a cappuccino over the table where Oswald has sat for his break. He’d created a cute little penguin with the foam, and although he normally hated his nickname Oswald just feels a flutter in his chest, a feeling he’s grown used to associating with Ed and only Ed ever since starting at Fish’s.

“I was just wondering just how far Jerome can go before he actually gets fired,” Oswald mused, motioning over to the younger boy who was currently terrorising Bridget with a can of whipped cream. “He best be careful, she’s a good shot with the steamer.”

“Jerome will never get fired, he’s been here longer than all of us,” Ed said, passing over a packet of ginger nuts he had stolen from beside the till without thinking. “Even the police charges didn’t stick.”

Oswald tore open the biscuits, offering one to Ed who took it readily. They sat in a contented silence for a moment, watching the surrounding customers. “That’s a lunchtime affair if I ever did see one,” he said suddenly, nodding towards a couple a couple of tables down.

The man was a good fifteen years older than the woman, and they were both smartly dressed in office-ware, but Oswald suspected, if the table wasn’t in the way she’d be seconds away from straddling him.

“He buys her fancy jewellery but he’d never leave his wife. Or the kids, Benji would be heartbroken.”

“What are you doing?” Ed asked, looking between the couple and Oswald with a confused frown.

“You never do this?” At the shake of Ed’s head, Oswald continued. “It was a game I’d play with my mother sometimes when I was younger. We didn’t… don’t have a lot of money, but when she could, she’d take me out to a little café like this. We’d watch the world go by, and give stories to all the other customers. I still do it now sometimes, can’t help myself.”

“So Benji?”

“He could totally have a son called Benji. He’d be snotty and chubby, just like all children are. But he’s not remotely athletic, which this guy hates, because when he heard he was having a son he had dreams of playing football in the back garden with him all the time. Maybe that’s why he’s sleeping with the office floozy, his wife is too angry at him for being disappointed with the kid.”

“You have a weird mind.”

“Try it!” Oswald insists. “How about that man over there? The one with the laptop?”

“I don’t know… he’s writing a book?”

“Boring. You need to be imaginative. Nothing is off limits. Everyone in here with a laptop is writing the next Harry Potter, but not this guy.”

“Ok, so he’s a researcher,” Ed said, taking off his glasses so he could fiddle with the frames whilst he thought. “No, a scientist. His wife’s sick, it’s terminal and he’s trying to discover and cure.”

“Good,” Oswald nodded, leaning forward, totally invested in the story.

“But he knows he won’t find anything in time so he’s trying to work on an alternative. He’s trying to figure out if he could freeze her, cryogenically preserve her until he can create a cure.” Ed looked to Oswald when he finished, biting his bottom lip as he looked for approval. Oswald didn’t think it possible, but he fell even more for the barista in front of him.

“That was impressive, for a first attempt that is.”

“Like you could do any better,” Ed snorted, his competitive side, which Oswald had only heard about but not yet seen, rearing its head. They spent the rest of their break creating stories, the next even wackier and more absurd that the last.

“He definitely eats people, just look at him,” Ed argued in a hushed tone, motioning over to their latest story inspiration with a wave.

“Oh please cannibalism is so-“

“If you two little lovebirds have finished with your… whatever the hell this is, you fancy actually getting back to work at any point?” Selina asked, rolling her eyes when both boys flushed a furious red, spluttering out excuses and tripping over their own words.

}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

It’s been six weeks since Oswald had started at Fish’s and he can’t deny it any longer. He has completely fallen for Ed, he’s become one of those lovestruck losers he hates so much, but he can’t even find it in himself to care. But he knows he needs to tell him, especially as a certain Kristen Kringle’s visits are becoming more and more regular.

She always smiles at Oswald when she sees him, like she knows something he doesn’t. He hates it, hates her, even if it is petty. He finally decides to do it when he sees that Ed is due to work the afternoon whilst he’s on a long day. But the nerves keep building as each hour passes, and when he drops his 4th cup Jim pulls him over to the side, a worried frown marring his annoyingly perfect features.

Oswald tries to lie but Jim is annoyingly perceptive and doesn’t buy it. So despite how much he doesn’t want to, Oswald finds himself telling the other teen about what he is hoping to say. He’s expects Jim to laugh, to tell him he’s being stupid but he’s surprisingly supportive, even throwing out a thumbs up when Ed walks through the door forty minutes later to start his own shift. Oswald can tell he’s acting weird, he can barely even look at Ed as they work behind the till, but he’s so nervous he thinks he might be sick. Eventually their break rolls around and bracing himself he loops his hand around Ed’s wrist and pulls him to the back of the store, well away from prying ears.

“Oswald what is it? Are you ok?” Ed asks, eyes wide and full of worry behind his lenses, and Oswald feels himself falling all over again.

“Ed, there comes a time in a man’s life when he hits a crossroads. Does he choose safety and cowardice, or courage and risk it all? For so long I’ve played it safe but now I’m changing that. I’m choosing courage and I guess what I’m trying to tell you is that I think you’re amazing. I can’t stop thinking about you, and everytime I do I can’t help but smile. It’s made coming to work in this little coffee shop the best thing ever, aside from all the toilet incidences that is. I like you Ed, more than like really, and I just need you to know how I feel.”

The silence that falls between them is heavy, and with each passing second Oswald feels like he’s being suffocated. But Ed remains silent and he realises just how big of a mistake he might just have made. And in the middle of their joint shift no less. Maybe he could drown himself in the toilet? He wouldn’t be its first death after all.

“Ed, I’m sorry I just-“ he starts, trying to backtrack furiously and fix the mess he’s just created. He’s so stupid, he’s ruined everything because he couldn’t keep his bloody mouth shut. No doubt that harpy Kristen had already got her claws into him. His failed attempts at trying to reverse what he’s said are aborted by Ed leaning forward, a soft pressure on his lips.

“But… but,” he stammers, mind short-circuiting over what has just happened.

“Oswald I feel the same,” Ed sounds breathless, as if he’s just run a marathon. Surely it can’t just be because of that kiss? Though Oswald feels similarly light-headed.

“You do?” he doesn’t dare believe it, an image of a particular red-headed girl flashing through his mind before he can stop it. “But what about Kristen? She always comes round to see you, and you two seem so close.”

“Ah,” Ed nods, cheeks colouring as he messes with the edge of his shirt. “Kristen has known about my… infatuation with you for a while. She’s been trying to help me work up the courage to talk to you. I was going to say something today in-fact.”

“Great minds think alike,” Oswald smiled, pulling Ed in for another kiss, hardly daring to believe he could do it. Maybe he’d make Kristen’s next drink on the house.

}}}}}}}}}}}}

“Oh my God! What the fuck guys?” Jim yelled, the loud clang of the bucket falling to the floor doing nothing to mask his yells of disgust, or the cries of embarrassment from the two others. Jerome’s manic laughter soon joined the fray, as he jumped over the counter to see what had happened, almost falling to the floor at the sight in front of him.

Oswald and Ed were frantically trying to reach for their work-shirts on the floor whilst doing what they could to keep themselves decent. “After you have a go at everyone else that does it,” Jim moaned, both hands firmly over his eyes so he doesn’t accidentally see anything. Jerome is less generous, reaching for his phone in an attempt to take photos and only stopping when Oswald throws a shoe in his direction.

“We had to see what all the fuss was about,” he shrugged, burying his head into Ed’s shoulder with a groan when he heard the unmistakeable noise of a camera going off.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to a tumblr post that I will do my best to find and link plus my 4 years of waitressing hell for giving me inspiration for this.


End file.
